Chapter Text
Roman didn’t know when, exactly, he fell in love, only that now he was severely fucked because Janus was back.
Janice? Hahahaha! What are you, a middle school librarian?
Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache. Otherwise, between you and Remus, I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.
Idiot. He was such a fucking idiot.
Of course the second Virgil wasn’t in the room he said something profoundly idiotic that Janus was 100% going to repeat to Virgil. Virgil would hate him forever and Roman would be left pining after someone who refused to even look at him.
He could already imagine the two of them, sitting on Janus’s bed–he had no clue what that snake’s room would look like, but he assumed it would be permanently dark and crawling with vipers–passing back and forth a bottle of wine and giggling over how stupid Roman was, how much better it was now that Janus was back.
Sure, Virgil pretended to hate Janus in videos, but that obviously couldn’t be real. You didn’t just spend almost three decades trapped in the “dark side” of Thomas’ Mindscape and not form unbreakable bonds with the other Sides there with you. Why would a handful of years with Roman take precedence over a lifetime with Dece–Janus.
Roman glowered at the door to his room, imagining exploding it with just his eyes. He wouldn’t, of course, because that would probably scare Virgil, but it was an interesting idea. He threw another dart at the dartboard near his desk, currently sporting a crude drawing of Janus–he wasn’t in the best headspace to come up with anything better.
Bullseye, again. Roman couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the dart for another throw, so he just slid off his bed and onto the floor, back resting against his mattress.
Someone knocked on the door, jolting Roman from his thoughts.
“Kiddo? You in there?” Patton called softly. “I’m coming in.”
Patton pushed open the door, revealing a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies in his hand. He quietly shut the door and moved to join Roman on the floor. Eyes wide, Patton took in the scene he had just walked into.
Roman’s room was a mess. Usually it was, but instead of the “organized chaos” of art supplies and half-finished projects, his room was littered with crumpled pieces of paper, bedding scattered in piles around the room, and Roman himself was sat in the center of it, the only thing that looked mildly put-together, like the eye of the storm.
“Scratch that, you’re clearly not. Cookie?” his friend offered.
Patton doesn’t deserve to see me like this. No one does.
Roman turned away, before quickly turning back to grab a cookie, only to once again turn towards the wall so he could look anywhere but Patton.
Patton sat criss-cross-applesauce, hands on his knees, back straight, and sighed deeply. He was acting so much like the imaginary father figure he was always trying to emulate in that moment, Roman almost chuckled. Almost.
“Kiddo, look at me. I don’t know what’s wrong and I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”
No response.
“Roman?” he tried.
Still nothing.
Roman heard rustling from behind him and suddenly Patton had moved to sit directly in front of him.
“Roman.” he said sternly. “What’s wrong?”
He nibbled on his cookie, glancing up at Patton but still not talking.
Patton, seeming to have decided that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with this approach, moved to gather some of the balls of paper into a pile to toss. He paused for a moment before slowly unfurling one of them.
As soon as Roman realized what Patton was doing he lunged, batting the paper out of Patton’s hand, but he was too late to prevent his friend from seeing what was on the page.
“Ah.” was all Patton said, holding up a page from Roman’s sketchbook that contained a portrait of Virgil, eyes half closed, listening to music with his headphones. That was one of the first drawings Roman had ever made of him, back when he was still Anxiety.
“Leavemealone” Roman grumbled, not entirely sure if his words were intelligible.
“Roman,” Patton started, “is there a reason you have a drawing of Janus riddled with holes? And what about your art? I know how proud you are of this, what’s wrong?”
Roman just curled himself into a fetal position, tucking his head into his knees to pretend he was still alone. He responded with something that vaguely sounded like “no”.
“Look, Roman, I won’t get mad at or make fun of you. Just tell me what’s going on.” Patton crouched down and enveloped Roman in a hug.
Even though he wanted to be alone, nothing compared to the comfort that a Patton hug could provide. Roman leaned back into the embrace.
“Please?” Patton whispered into his ear.
Roman didn’t look up, didn’t want to see Patton’s face. He hadn’t even said anything and his friend was already upset at him.
“I can’t do this,” he started, eyes filling with tears. “He doesn’t need me anymore now that he has De–Jan–” he cut himself off with a sob.
“Oh, Roman, we’ll always need you. Nobody could replace you.”
Patton has gotten really good at lying ever since Janus showed up.
They stayed like that for a while, Roman curled up next to Patton, sobbing quietly while Patton slowly rubbed circles into his back.
Eventually the two Sides had to separate. Patton had to leave to get dinner ready and Roman could feel his stomach grumbling. He very slowly got up from the floor, joints aching from sitting in one spot for so long, and took a deep breath.
It’s okay. They won’t even be downstairs, he promised himself. And if they are, they won’t notice you.
Logan nodded in his direction as Roman descended the stairs. He looked around nervously before continuing to the kitchen. If Janus or Virgil really were downstairs, Patton would hopefully be a good shield.
Patton hummed softly as he shredded cheddar cheese into a bubbling pot on the stove. Roman busied himself setting the table–six pasta bowls, color-coded to each Side’s favorite color. Now that Janus and Remus had revealed themselves to Thomas, Patton insisted on everyone having dinner together.
Roman took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable as he sat down at the table. He stared at his hands. I should repaint my nails, they’re starting to chip.
“Dinner!” Patton yelled upstairs.
Logan got up from the couch. “I have some work to get done, I will have to excuse myself from eating at the table tonight. I will, however, fill a plate to eat at my desk so I can multitask.”
Remus’s head appeared from somewhere above the ceiling. “Me too, sorry Daddy! I’ve got a couple pounds of maggots I need to hide somewhere in Thomas’s closet. But if you want, I can visit you later for my punishment.” With a wink towards the kitchen, Remus disappeared again.
Great. Two of the buffers between me and them are gone.
If two of the Sides were allowed to get out of family dinner, maybe Roman could as well. He could put off having to confront Janus and his cru–Virgil. Janus and Virgil, because they’re a pair now.
Almost as if him thinking their names had summoned them, Roman looked up to see the two Sides walking away from the stairs, Virgil laughing and lightly pushing Janus’s shoulder after Janus muttered something.
“Janus! Virgil! I made mac and cheese, come sit down!”
Roman watched carefully as they each sat down. Virgil was sitting directly across from Roman and it took all he had to not make eye contact with the anxious Side. He noticed when Janus whispered something to Virgil, making Virgil laugh that dark, beautiful laugh of his.
He noticed when Virgil whispered something back, making the two of them both grin.
He especially noticed how Virgil hadn’t looked at him once since they sat down.
His fingers twitched, eager to leave the table as he felt a pang of. . hurt? anger? hit his chest. The other three eating with him were chatting about Thomas’s latest audition, discussing who would get which part in the play.
Patton gestured between Janus and Virgil. “The two of you are thick as thieves now that Janus has finally revealed himself to Thomas,” he commented.
Virgil laughed. “Yeah, well that’s what being separated for two decades gets you,” he responded, looking at Janus with so much affection in his gaze it hurt to observe.
Suddenly everything was too much. Roman pushed his chair away from the table and got up as quickly as he could. “I’m going to work on editing the next video,” he announced, rushing up the stairs towards his room.
As soon as the door closed, Roman sank down, resting his head in his hands. This was too much. Everything was too much. He had been working for years to get Virgil to look at him like he did Janus and all of a sudden, as soon as that snake comes along he’s thrown to the side.
Sighing, he looked at the mess of his room. I really should clean this up, just in case Patton comes to check on me. He was too tired to snap away the crumpled papers and destroyed drawing of Janus, so he slowly got up from the floor to get started.
He gathered the drawings strewn about the floor and placed them in a trashcan. What if Virgil never talked to him again? What if Janus fully replaced Roman, not just in Virgil’s life, but in Thomas’s too? Thomas didn’t need two dramatic, theatrical Sides and clearly at least one of his Sides already agreed.
What if. . he needed to duck out?
Sure, that didn’t work well when Virgil tried, but nobody else would have been able to replace Virgil’s job. Logan was too focused on productivity, Patton was too bubbly, and Roman was too focused on Thomas’s dreams for any of them to replace Anxiety. But Creativity? Two creative Sides was redundant, and Janus had already shown that he could help keep Remus under control–he was the one who kept him in the Subconscious for all this time, after all. And anything that Remus struggled with, Patton and Janus would be able to help with. Janus could guide Thomas’s acting with how good he was at impersonation and Patton was fantastic at coming up with ideas.
Of course. It made perfect sense for Virgil to not care about him anymore, Roman was just surprised nobody else had come to the same conclusion yet.
He carefully pulled the darts out of his wall and removed his crude drawing of Janus. Not my best work, he thought with a grimace. He had been so angry and frustrated earlier that day to focus on making a good piece of art.
Roman didn’t bother to remake his bed, not when he was about to get in it anyways. He cocooned himself in his blankets, running his fingers over his soft cotton bedsheets. In the morning, everyone would realize he was redundant and he would be pushed to the Subconscious where Remus and Janus had been trapped all those years.
Would it really be so bad? Maybe not. Roman would be able to build himself a nice enclosure where he could act out all of his dreams, without anyone there to shut him down. Yeah, he’d be alone, but he could always create people to be with.
I think I’d be okay with that life, he thought to himself just before he drifted off to sleep.
Roman awoke to a soft knocking on his door. He groaned. Patton coming to check on me. He knew he should probably open the door and say a cheery “good morning, Padre!” and accept whatever baked good Patton had made that morning, but he couldn’t find the energy.
Not when I’m worthless.
He flicked his fingers and the room became soundproof, allowing Roman to go back to sleep.
The next time he woke up was to another knock and a piece of paper slipped underneath his door. I might as well get up to see what it says.
Blanket still clutched around his shoulders, Roman crawled out of bed to pick up the note. It was one of those cheesy cards Patton had made, with a drawing of all the Sides saying “ILY” in a bright and cheery yellow. Sure you do.
Roman checked the time. It was 11:30 already, far past the time he normally would get up to work. But what did work matter if everything he did could be done better by another Side?
Maybe he could sneak into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. He was already awake, might as well fully wake up now. That’s one thing he would miss when he was gone, real coffee. Well, as real as the idea of coffee in Thomas’s thoughts got. Imagination coffee never tasted right.
He slowly opened his door, as slowly as he could to avoid anyone hearing. Even if they did, Roman wasn’t sure anyone would care enough to come talk to him.
Thankfully, the kitchen was empty while Roman brewed a pot of coffee for himself. He poured some into a mug along with some caramel syrup and star-shaped sprinkles. The rest of the pot went into a red thermos and Roman struggled to juggle the mug, thermos, and blanket still around his shoulders as he walked up the stairs.
Part of the blanket trailed along the ground and Roman slipped on it on the second step. Shit.
The hot coffee spilled on the carpeted staircase and Roman slid embarrassingly down into a pile at the foot of the stairs.
Idly, Roman wondered what would happen if he died there. If the coffee burned so hot his body wouldn’t recover or maybe his head had cracked and spilled out on the steps. Remus would love to see that. Maybe he’d paint it, that would be nice.
Somewhere in the distance Roman heard a scream. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t focus enough to tell who it belonged to.
Someone grabbed his arm and roughly pushed him off the floor and onto the couch. His soaked blanket was removed from his shoulders and replaced with a pastel blue and purple quilt.
“Roman? Roman?? Princey??? Are you okay?” a voice said distantly. He knew that voice. Virgil? No, Virgil hated him.
Roman blinked, slowly, and he saw two faces staring at him, concern clear in their eyes. “..Patton?” he asked hesitantly.
One of the faces barked a sharp laugh. “Yes, because Patton would have let you walk into the kitchen without grabbing a plate of cookies.”
Oh. It was Virgil. Not just Virgil, but Dec–Janus, too.
“Janus!” hissed Virgil. “What if he’s concussed? Oh my god what if he broke something and we can’t take care of him? I don’t think any of us except maybe Logan know first-aid and Thomas doesn’t have enough medical knowledge to construct a hospital for him.”
Roman’s heart twisted as Janus laid a hand gently on the anxious Side’s shoulder and shushed him. It was so sweet, so intimate, and Roman felt awful for being witness to it. He should be comforting Virgil right now and having those soft, intimate moments. Instead, it was goddamned Deceit and he was more worried about his aching heart than his own health.
I need to get out of here. Roman waved the two other Sides away with a mumbled “I’m fine”. He picked up the discarded blanket from his room and moved to stand up, but it must’ve been too quick because his vision immediately went black and he felt unsteady. Right, he was probably dehydrated. Just another problem added to the list of things wrong with Roman.
Janus reached out a hand to help steady him and Roman pushed away. “Yes, clearly you are perfectly fine and not in need of assistance at all, Roman.”
Fuck off, you slimy snake.
“Excuse me?” Virgil asked, sounding annoyed. Shit, did I say that out loud? “Janus just wanted to see if you’re okay. We haven’t seen you all morning and you barely said anything at dinner last night.”
He couldn’t deal with this right now. Roman was tired, but he could sink out to somewhere safe. He focused his energy on being anywhere else, he didn’t care where as long as it was just away.
Roman sank out in the middle of Janus saying something and reappeared in Thomas’s living room.
“Ah!” Thomas jumped. “Roman! What’s going on? I wasn’t expecting you.”
Fuck. He wasn’t intending to appear to Thomas, but he was stuck with it now. Roman took in a deep breath, trying to imagine anything he could say that would hide his distress from Thomas.
“Of course!” he started, taking up his signature dramatic pose. “All the best ideas come when you are least expecting them.” He searched his mind for something to say next but came up empty. Where did people usually get ideas? Showers? Showers. “You should take a shower, maybe it’ll get those creative juices flowing!”
Thomas squinted at him. “Why would I shower right now?”
Good point. “For inspiration! Maybe you could write a ballad to a bar of soap, but if you didn’t shower right now we wouldn’t be able to write it.”
“Roman? You okay, bud? You’re acting a bit off.”
“Yep! Everything is as excellent as Lin Manuel Miranda’s brilliant lyricism!” What the fuck was that sad excuse for a joke? “I’m doing fine! Everything’s fine! Nothing is wrong at all and we’re all perfectly fine here in Thomasland! Just remember to take that shower later,” he finished as he sank out before Thomas could turn this shitty conversation into a Sanders Sides video.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck
If Roman was going to “duck out”, he needed to do it soon. Patton, Virgil, Janus, and now even Thomas were suspicious of him. Hopefully Remus could come up with a decent shower-thought if Thomas actually listened to Roman’s advice for once.
Roman dug his nails into his skin, desperate to feel something to ground him here, in this moment, in his room. He needed to think clearly if he was going to execute this properly. Roman pulled out his sketchbook to help him brainstorm. He needed something in the Imagination, but he wasn’t sure what it should look like. When Virgil had attempted this, they had all easily found their way into his room to talk him out of it. He needed something impenetrable, obviously, with some art supplies maybe, so he could occupy his time. He had no idea how long it would take to hide himself away before he was gone for good. Would it even matter? Could it matter? Roman wasn’t sure if Sides were even capable of dying, but he was damned sure he’d make it so that whatever happened to him would get as close to death as possible.
His arm began to hurt from the tight grip he kept on it, but Roman didn’t care anymore. Let it bruise, let it bleed, it wouldn’t matter anymore. He tasted blood in his mouth, he hadn’t even realized he’d been biting his tongue. Roman sketched furiously, trying to get all the details just right.
“Fuck!” he shouted out in frustration, groaning and tossing his notebook to the side. It didn’t matter how much he planned, the outcome was always going to be the same. Roman would be gone and everyone would be better for it. Planning like this was just a form of procrastination.
I should at least say goodbye to Patton and Logan, Roman realized. It wouldn’t be fair to them. He picked his notebook back up and paused, pen hovering over the page. What does someone write to their best friends to say goodbye? Writing was much easier than talking–if Roman tried to give his farewell in person they’d likely try to talk him out of it. No, it was better this way. As he wrote, he pictured Virgil’s reaction. What would he think? Virgil would probably feel sad for a couple days, before cuddling up next to Janus and recovering quickly from the loss of someone he barely cared about.
Sure, there would be the mandatory period of grieving, but once that was over Virgil would forget he had ever existed, too caught up in the Janus of it all. Would they merge their rooms? Would they sit together and watch the Black Cauldron while sharing a pint of rocky road ice cream on Virgil’s bed, like he and Roman had? Maybe Virgil wouldn’t even realize that everything he was doing were things he had done with Roman, once. Roman would be so irrelevant that the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.
Tears began to prick at his eyes. If he sat here any longer, Roman would get called in for dinner and have to face his family again, one last time. He didn’t think he could handle it.
Roman tore out the two letters he had written and snapped them to each sit just underneath Logan’s and Patton’s doors respectively. He looked around his room one last time, double checking that everything was organized and in its correct place. It felt odd to leave his room a mess, like he was about to come back to it.
A strange calm washed over him at that moment. This is it, he thought to himself. It’s time.
And with a deep breath, he sank down and into the dark void he had built in the Imagination.